


The Discrepancies Will Fix Themselves

by glowworm888



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Timestuck, Family Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Rated T for language and mild violence, Time Travel, timestuck au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26603185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowworm888/pseuds/glowworm888
Summary: "Time has a way of mending itself, of smoothing out the wrinkles. It's the universe's way of saying that something is meant to be"Mabel gets trapped in the year 1974 by herself. She's lucky enough to find someone she knows she can trust, she just has to get him to trust her too.Timestuck AU
Comments: 12
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just going to pretend that I don't have any unfinished works lmao. I just REALLY like the Timestuck AU and couldn't not write something for it. Yes, there are many like it, but this one is mine. Lol!

Mabel could still hear the ghost of her brother yelling at her even after hours had passed. Well, she assumed it had been hours. She had no way of telling other than the rapidly darkening sky.

The remnants of a shattered time machine stabbed through Mabel's skirt pocket, never letting her forget she was trapped. She didn't know what year this was supposed to be, but it was obvious that she wasn't in Gravity Falls. This strange city was too big. She found an icy bench outside of a convenience store, and sat there hoping she didn't look suspiciously enough to raise attention. But everyone who passed by were locked firmly in their own business, giving the young girl the haunting feeling of being invisible. Which was probably for the better, anyway. If Dipper was here, he'd almost certainly tell her that they'd want to be as 'invisible' as possible.

She was cold. It was dark, chilly, and her knit sweater wasn't cutting it. Behind her, the convenience store was lit up in cheap neon, and Mabel considered going inside, if only until she got kicked out for loitering. She didn't have any kind of money with her, and her body was reminding her that if she were at home right now, she'd be enjoying whatever mediocre dinner Stan had cooked. Right now, even that hideous brown meat sounded good right now.

Mabel huffed, watched her breath float through the air, then lifted herself off the bench. She could at least go inside and pretend to be interested in buying something.

A bell chimed when she swung the door inward, and the woman at the counter gave her an uninterested "Evenin'". Mabel wandered the aisles and eventually settled on picking up a magazine that didn't interest her at all just to give herself something to do. She flipped through a few pages of _Trucking Monthly_ before flipping it over to look for a date. Her heart sank when she read "Nov, 1974". Almost forty years was separating her from where she belonged, and she had no way of getting back. She reached into her pocket and felt the tiny pieces of her time machine. Even a genius like Grunkle Ford wouldn't be able to put that back together, especially in 1974. And even if that wasn't the case, she still had no idea where she was. Trying to ask someone would look suspicious, and even she knew the dangers of approaching a random stranger. She choked down a pained sob and forced herself to read about about the new Ford Pinto.

"Hey kid, if you're not a customer I can't let ya be in here"

The woman from the counter stood above her, looking mildly apologetic for having to kick her out. Mabel frowned and tried to think of some sort of argument to get the woman to let her stay inside. Defeated, she put the magazine back on the rack and left as the woman croaked out a half-hearted apology.

Back to the bench. Eventually she'd have to go somewhere. The police would take her in and try to get ahold of her family (which wouldn't work, because technically she didn't exist yet), or worse, she'd get kidnapped or something equally horrifying.

She couldn't stop herself from crying this time. Hiccupy sobs escaped her as she desperately wished this to be a bad dream. Something she could wake up from and tell Dipper about so they could laugh about it together. But she was here, alone, and that was her fault. She'd have to die in 1974, on the streets of a strange town, knowing that it was her fault.

"Do you need to make a phone call or somethin'?" A gruff voice asked her. She turned her head to look at the man who had approached her. He was holding out a couple quarters in his outstretched hand. Mabel frowned.

"No. Thank you though" she said quietly, giving an unconvincing smile at the man. He shrugged and stuck the money in his jacket pocket.

"Do you need a ride?"

Mabel's heart rate begin to speed up. Her mother's voice reminding her to _never_ get in the car with a stranger was playing on repeat in the back of her mind.

"No, thank you" she squeaked, preparing herself to make a run for it.

It was only when the man pulled his scarf down enough that she could see the entirety of his face when she began to calm down, and then panic for an entirely different reason.

Sure, there was forty year difference from what she was used to looking at, but he was still unmistakably, undeniably Grunkle Stan.

He must've noticed the change in her behavior, because he took a step back and held his hands at a surrender.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, kid. I just wouldn't want ya out at this time of night" he said, gentler this time.

Mabel couldn't just tell him that she didn't have anywhere to go; he'd almost definitely take her to the police. As far as he knew, she was nothing more than a random preteen sitting outside of a corner store. She couldn't be his niece during this time. But she couldn't let him leave either, especially considering she had no idea where she was. 2013 or 1974, she trusted Stan. She just needed to trust herself to create an excuse to get him to keep her with him. But that was Dipper's territory. She could hardly lie, let alone make a convincing, well-thought-out story.

She swiped at a tear that was still pooled in her eye and faced the young Stan again.

"Uhm, actually, I do need a ride" she said quickly.

Stan raised his eyebrows and nodded, clearly glad he wouldn't have to leave her out in the cold night.

"Okay. I'm parked a few blocks down, but it's not a long walk"

He waited for her to get up from the bench before beginning to walk down the sidewalk. She followed two steps behind, her hand returning to her pocket full of time machine scraps. She needed somewhere safe to put them, because if she had any hope of getting back to when she belonged, she'd need every piece of the tape measure. And even more importantly, she'd need that tiny shred of hope if she was going to keep herself going.


	2. Chapter 2

Let it be known that Stanley Pines was NOT one to leave a crying child alone in the dark and the cold, no matter how jaded he was. He didn't have much to offer (seventy-five cents and a ride home), but he wasn't about to let this girl freeze her ass off at this time of night.

He was surprised when she turned down the money for a payphone, though he wasn't complaining, and he was even more surprised when she stiffened after he offered her a ride home. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised. He was a strange, unkempt man approaching a young girl he didn't know. Noticing how frightened she was, he pulled down his scarf and let her see his face. He didn't want to go around scaring kids. Astonishingly, it worked better than he had counted on. It was like a switch flipped in the girl's mind, and suddenly she wasn't afraid anymore.

When she finally accepted his offer on a ride, he led her to his car and let her get in the passenger seat. Were kids supposed to sit in the front? Maybe not, but that wasn't what he was worried about right now.

"Alright kid, where am I taking ya?"

She scrunched her face like she was thinking hard, trying to remember something she never learned in the first place. Stan was familiar with that. From when he'd have to lie about his past or his family. Yes, he knew the answer immediately: He wasn't taking her anywhere. This girl was either a runaway or had been kicked out. She must be loved, or at least cared for, by someone. She was clean, looked well-fed, even had the silvery glint of braces on her teeth. He decided he'd give her a few moments before he'd just drop her at the police station. If she had any kind of trouble at home, they could take care of her.

The longer she thought, the more distressed she looked. Whatever was _really_ going on, she wasn't going to tell him, and she didn't have a suitable lie to replace it.

"Look, how about we take you to the police. They'll take care of ya" he said gently. Maybe that wasn't what she was hoping for, but it was the best he could offer. He probably shouldn't be in Arkansas much longer anyway, because technically speaking, he was "unwelcome" here.

As soon as he said it, the girl's eyes widened and she shook her head fiercely.

"You can't!" She shouted, waving her hands wildly at him.

He frowned.

_Jesus, what kind of danger was this kid in?_

"I don't know what else to do with you, kiddo" he said as softly as possible. He felt guilty for being so powerless; but in the end, she wasn't his problem. God knows he has enough problems as it was.

"Me neither" she answered, almost too quietly for him to hear.

His heart ached with empathy. She probably felt as helpless as he did the day he got kicked out. Maybe more so. She's so young.

He sighed.

"I can't just put you back on the street..." he said, mostly to himself. He looked her over. She didn't have a jacket, or even long pants. The kid would freeze overnight. "I have a motel room across town. You can stay the night if you need, but in the morning we need to get ya somewhere safe"

Her face relaxed a bit, and she put on a small smile.

"Really? Thanks Gr-... er, Mister"

He nodded and started the car.

_Looks like I'm on babysitting duty._

If nothing else, the kid seemed calmer. She was still shivering and was definitely still scared of something Stan could only imagine, but at least he could pride himself on knowing that she was safe. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with her in the morning, but that was something he could deal with when he came to it. The idea of walking into a police station was not one that thrilled him, but it was better than leaving the girl out on the street.

They had only been driving for a few minutes when he heard a low rumble. He panicked for a moment, worried that The Stanley Mobile was crapping out on him before realizing it was not the sound of a busted car, but that of a hungry child.

_Shit._

"Have you had dinner yet?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Of course she hadn't eaten if she didn't have anywhere to go.

She shook her head gently.

"Hmm, I think I have a can of Spaghetti-O's back in the room. If ya don't mind 'em cold"

Stan was used to having to settle for cold, crummy meals, but he felt guilty for not having something better for the kid. Who knows how long she's been on the street? But she nodded gratefully all the same.

The motel Stan had been staying at the last week was nothing to look at. It was a typical, unassuming building with a cheap sign that displayed the name _Red Summit Motel_. The kid was shivering on their way inside, and Stan made a mental note to find her something warmer to wear until she had someone to take proper care of her.

His motel room was a disaster. His belongings were scattered carelessly across the floor, and he had made no effort to hide the baseball bat and knife he usually kept in his car.

The young girl, shockingly, didn't seem bothered or remotely frightened by the state of his living space, and instead settled on a dusty chair in the corner of the room. She was rubbing at the goosebumps on her legs, trying to warm herself up. Stan huffed and peeled off his jacket and tossed it onto her lap.

"Here, kid. Can't have ya freezin'"

She wrapped it around herself and thanked him more sincerely than he probably deserved. He muttered a "No problem" and found a can of Chef Boyardee and a plastic spoon in his backpack. She ate it quickly, then curled up on the chair, still tucked underneath his oversized jacket.

He frowned as he watched her try and get comfortable.

"It's alright kiddo, you can have the bed"

She was out almost immediately. Stan had no idea what she'd been through that day, but he certainly didn't envy her.

He scooted a pile of threadbare clothes aside and layed down on the floor. Really, it wasn't much worse than the cheap motel bed, but it made him stiffen all the same.

_It's just_ _for_ _one night, then someone else can take care of her._

He felt guilty just ditching her with the police, especially when she had been so insistent that he didn't, but he was out of options. She couldn't be his problem, not when he was living out of his car and making small amounts of money in less-than-legal ways.

She was definitely better off elsewhere.


	3. Chapter 3

Mabel slept surprisingly well for someone who was forty years out of place without a way back. She woke up long past when she would normally would, still shaking off the groggy nothingness of a dreamless sleep. It took her a moment to reorient. Where was she? Where was Dipper? Why was she wearing this filthy red jacket?

When it all caught up to her, it hit her like a brick. She was trapped in 1974 with a broken time machine stabbing into her leg and a can of cold Spaghetti-O's in her stomach tempting themselves to come right back up. And, of course, a great uncle who didn't know her and couldn't take care of her if he wanted to. And it was seemingly like he didn't. She frowned and unwrapped herself from the tangled sheets of the motel bed and sat up. Stan wasn't there, and she began to panic, thinking he'd ditched her, until she heard the sound of running water. He was still here, just in the shower. She layed back down.

_How am_ _I_ _supposed to convince him not to take me to the police?_

She could always play the "You're a criminal, are you _sure_ you want to be going to the cops?" card, but that seemed a bit too manipulative. She just had to think like Dipper.

What would Dipper do?

_He wouldn't have done something this stupid in_ _the_ _first place._

She was saved from having to spar with her own conscience when Stan came out of the bathroom looking only slightly less grungy than he did the night before.

"D'ya want a shower or something before we go?" He asked her.

She shook her head, though she probably could use one. No, she needed to get enough of Stan's pity for him to keep her around long enough for her to think of a long-term plan. Even this hardened, touch-starved version of Stan had a soft side, and Mabel knew very well that she could activate it like no one else.

"St- uhm, Sir, can we maybe get some breakfast?" She asked as sweetly as possible.

Stan cocked his head to the side, as if the idea of a child needing breakfast was a foreign one.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose so" he said, and Mabel grinned.

"Great! Pancakes are my favorite, but I'll settle for eggs and bacon"

"You wanna hit a diner, huh?" He grumbled.

She nodded.

Stan sighed and put on his familiar you're-lucky-that-you're-cute face.

"Fine. But then we need to get you taken care of"

She beamed and thanked him with enthusiasm, and whether he meant to or not, he cracked a rusted smile.

Mabel waited for Stan to pull all of his belongings together, feeling a pang of guilt knowing that her uncle had to live like this for so long. And now she was becoming one more burden on him.

"Do you need help?" She offered weakly as he slung a duffle bag over his shoulder, then grabbed an overstuffed backpack in his free hand.

He glanced down at her.

"You wanna grab the key for me?" He asked, nodding towards a silver key sitting on the bedside table. She clutched it in her hand and followed him out of the room.

While Stan loaded his bags into the backseat of his car, Mabel found the motel desk and promptly returned the key.

"Alright, let's get ya some pancakes" he said, opening the passenger door for her.

The car whirred to life, and the two began scouting for a place to eat.

"I don't think I ever got your name, kid" he said, eyes focused on each building sign he passed.

"Oh, it's Mabel P-..."

She caught herself from saying her last name. No, she'd definitely need a fake one. She considered, then used the first one that came to mind.

"...Corduroy. Mabel Corduroy"

Hopefully Wendy wouldn't mind her borrowing it.

"Mabel, huh? That's a nice name" he said, though he seemed distracted.

"What's yours?" She asked, remembering that she wasn't supposed to know it.

"Hal Forester"

 _Liar_.

"That's a nice name too"

He grunted and pulled the car into the parking lot of a sad little diner. It must've been on the outskirts of whatever city they had come from, because the traffic was thinner and the buildings were stained grey with years of dirt.

Stan and Mabel found a booth near the back of the restaurant and waited for a server to notice they were there.

"Alright kid, we need to figure out what to do with ya" Stan said gruffly, though Mabel could sense sympathy in his voice. She had to play into that.

"Please Hal, you can't take me to the police" she begged quietly. His fake name felt clunky and unnatural, but she couldn't risk slipping up.

Stan scrunched his eyebrows together. There were cogs working, desperately thinking of a way he could ditch her without feeling guilty about it. Mabel ignored the sting of being unwanted, and reminded herself that this Stan was essentially a stranger. A stranger who had no means of caring for a preteen girl (who was lying about her own identity as much as he was). And if there was any other choice, she wouldn't burden the man. But there wasn't a choice. He was all she had, and he had absolutely no idea.

"I get it, it's scary," he said, half consoling and half defeated, "But if there's trouble going on at home, they'll find somewhere safe for ya".

He didn't look entirely convinced.

Mabel was saved from having to argue when a waitress came to take their orders. As promised, Stan had gotten her pancakes. They were good, but they would've been better if she hadn't been wishing they were Stancakes instead. She'd been trying to ignore the homesickness, but it was difficult when a piece of her home was sitting right across from her.

They finished eating, and Mabel had been stalling. She went to use the restroom, she called the waitress over to compliment her hair, she claimed she had a headache and needed some water. But she ran out of excuses before she could effectively convince Stan not to take her to the police station.

He didn't want to have to leave her, she could see it. But in the end, he was a drifter with a shady identity, and she was a child who deserved a safe home. When he told her that, she protested. She begged him to let her stay just one more day. He gave her a sad look and insisted that it was for the best.

Stan drove into town and found the Fayetteville Police Station. Mabel sulked in the passenger seat the whole way there. She had only one more tool in her toolbox, and she wasn't excited about it.

After Stan parked the car outside, he began to open the door.

"No! I should go alone. Thank you though" she said softly, pulling the seatbelt off of her waist.

Stan gave her a look of worry.

"I'm just gonna make sure they get someone to take care of ya" he said, swinging the car door all the way open.

"It's okay. I just don't want them to think you kidnapped me or something" she lied.

Her reasoning worked better than expected on him, and he pulled his leg back into the car. He gave her a sad look.

"Sorry I couldn't take care of you, kiddo. Is there anything I can do before I leave?"

_I_ _just need a minute. Just one._

"Yeah, actually there is. After I'm inside, will you go to the payphone across this street and call someone for me. You just gotta tell them that Mabel's okay"

It was a strange request, and she was hoping he wouldn't think anything of it.

"I suppose so. Is this person a family member?"

She shook her head.

"No, just someone I feel bad about leaving in the dark"

Stan pressed his lips together, but nodded anyway.

"Sure thing, kid. Write down that number for me, will ya?"

He handed her a recipt that was floating around on the floor of his car. She grabbed a pen and scribbled down a phone number that probably didn't exist yet, and even if it did, definitely didn't belong to the same people that it did in 2013. Whatever. It was just to buy her some time.

She handed Stan the recipt with her parents' phone number scrawled on the back.

"Promise you'll call?"

Stan, to her surprise, put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Forty years apart, but it was the same hand that playfully rubbed her hair or comfortingly squeezed her hand.

It made her feel even more guilty about what she was about to do.

"Of course. Good luck, kid. Make sure someone takes real good care of you"

_Oh,_ _I_ _am._

"Thank you, Hal"

She stepped out if the car and quickly made her way to the front entrance of the police station. The door closed behind her, and she quickly ducked to peek out the window.

Stan watched the front of the building for a moment, a sad look on his face. For a moment, she was worried he was going to drive away without fulfilling his promise, but after a minute or two, he fished the same pocket change he had offered to her yesterday, and crossed the street to the gas station that bragged about having an indoor payphone.

The second he was in the building, Mabel dashed from the police station lobby back to the Stanley Mobile. She thanked her lucky stars that it was unlocked, and pulled the trunk open. There was a small cardboard box in there, but nothing she couldn't squeeze herself around. She struggled getting the trunk closed behind her, but eventually got it shut without making too much noise.

A surprising amount of time passed before she heard Stan open the driver's seat door. Guiltily, she realized he had probably been trying desperately to get a hold of someone who didn't exist, forcing himself to break his promise when no one answered. She worried for a moment that he was going to go back into the police station to find her and tell her that the call wouldn't go through, but instead he shut the door and started the engine.

Mabel could hear him talking to himself, but couldn't make out distinct words.

Finally, the car backed out of the parking lot, and began moving towards wherever Stanley Pines was going next. Just him, his car, and the cargo he didn't know he was carrying. 


	4. Chapter 4

From Fayetteville to Lincoln, Stan had a heavy weight sinking in his gut. He tried to reason with himself that it was just his stomach having been unused to actually being full. But even he was smarter than that.

"I could've at least made sure she got inside okay" he mumbled to himself, taking the exit to Lincoln.

He probably could've kept going north. He probably _should've_ kept going north. There was nothing tethering him there, yet he found himself fighting the urge to drive straight back to Arkansas. It was a bad idea; he had an arrest warrant in Little Rock.

But he had ignored a child's protests and possibly left her to be sent back right to wherever she had escaped from. There wasn't much about Mabel's situation that he understood, mostly because she hadn't given him much information at all. But he did know that wherever she had come from, it wasn't safe for her. And he had sent her back anyway.

Stan grunted angrily at himself and slammed the palm of his hand against the steering wheel for good measure. He could tell himself over and over that Mabel had nothing to do with him and wasn't his responsibility, but he'd never be able to fully convince himself that he had done the right thing. He could've asked about her home life, made sure no one was hurting her. He could've made sure the police took good care of her. There were a lot of things he could've done to help that little girl, and he had left her in a strange city without so much as a warm jacket.

When he stopped at a gas station just outside of Lincoln, he had had to restrain himself from turning right back around. But he had left Mabel in Fayetteville over six hours ago, and chances are she had at least been dealt with by the police by now. He could fool himself into thinking that Child Services was taking care of her, but he knew better. He knew that system failed kids all the time.

"Ugh, I need a coffee" he muttered to himself before hauling his tired body out of the car.

On the side of the building was a payphone. Stan let out an unnecessarily long sigh and pulled a quarter and an old recipt out of his front pocket.

The first time he had called the number Mabel had given him, the operator had told him that the number wasn't assigned to anybody. The second time he called, the operator told him the same thing with a little less patience. The third time, Stan had used some less-than-friendly words, and the operator had not-so-kindly asked him to stop calling.

He slipped the quarter into the machine and waited.

Once again, the operator (thankfully a different one this time) apologized and told Stan that the number he asked for wasn't in use.

Stan grumbled a 'thank you' and slammed the phone back into place, feeling even guiltier about Mabel.

"Great, just perfect" he muttered as he stuffed his icy fingers into his jacket pocket for a moment before he had to refuel his car.

The gas station attendant was inside, and for a moment, Stan considered just driving away. But an older woman at the pump next to him was eyeing him suspiciously, so he pulled some cash out of his pocket and took it inside.

When he got back outside, the lot was empty. Even the traffic on the road was thin and quiet. Stan pressed his mouth into a line and got back in the car. He sat for a moment, soaking in the chilly air of the Stanley Mobile before he decided he couldn't take the cold any longer. He had a pair of gloves somewhere. He shuffled around the other items he kept on the floor of his car: a raincoat, an old Burger Queen wrapper, a stray dollar bill (a nice surprise), and of course, a baseball bat.

Remembering his gloves were in a box with the rest of his spare clothes in the trunk of his car, he opened the door back up and went around back.

The trunk door was stiff with frost, and resisted when Stan tried prying it open. On his last nerve, he swung his elbow over and slammed it against the compartment door. There was a surprised yelp on impact, and Stan muttered a "sorry" before trying the handle again.

_Did I just apologize to my car?_

Stan's eyes widened and finally managed to get the trunk open. Hidden partially by a box of random clothing, was a small girl.

"Jesus Christ, Mabel, what the hell?" He shouted as he reached in and helped her unfold out of the tight space and pulled her out into the empty gas station lot.

Mabel had the decency to look ashamed, and maybe even scared. Stan might've been a lot more upset if he wasn't resisting the urge to pull her into a tight embrace. Almost seven hours of self-berating for abandoning the poor girl, and she had been in the back of his car the whole time.

"What do you think you're doing, kid?" He asked, trying to keep himself from sounding too harsh.

Mabel's eyes were fixed on a tiny crack in the concrete.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go" she said in a small voice, almost inaudible.

Any anger that Stan had felt at the stowaway dissolved and transformed into guilt (and maybe even a touch of relief).

He softened and held a hand out for her.

"Then I guess you're coming with me"

Mabel looked at it for a moment, and Stan began to worry that she had lost her trust in him. But a small, pained smile formed on her face, and she took his outstretched hand. Her fingers were icy, and he cringed as he remembered she had been huddled in the trunk of his car all day. She was probably cold, hungry, and sore.

"Give me ten minutes to find a good place to stop, and we'll get you taken care of" he told her, and she nodded.

He let her into the passenger seat, and got in on the other side. There was a small stash of money hidden in his backpack. He had been intending to save it for gas, but this kid couldn't go without some warmer clothes and proper meals. Obviously, he'd have to find a way to make some more, but for now, his priority was Mabel. And _maybe_ living on the road wasn't the best lifestyle for a kid of (eleven? twelve, maybe?) her age, but neither of them seemed to have another option. And as much as he wanted to be upset that she had hidden away in his car, he couldn't help but feel glad knowing that she was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by a job interview that probably didn't go well, a three hour nap, and some really great cookies.


End file.
